


Sired by Wolves

by ASongofIceandHope



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Canon Compliant, F/M, Fix-It
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-20
Updated: 2019-05-20
Packaged: 2020-03-08 09:17:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 930
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18891655
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ASongofIceandHope/pseuds/ASongofIceandHope
Summary: Maester Wolkan began to leave, but then lingered awkwardly at the door.“Is there something else, Maester Wolkan?” Sansa questioned.“No, no, Your Grace,” he began. “It’s just... the question of your son’s... inheritance. After all, we do not know his father—”“His father,” Sansa said. “My son’s father is a wolf.”((A quick post-series ficlet on the matter of continuing House Stark))





	Sired by Wolves

The Queen in the North labored well into the earliest hours of the morning. It had been years since Sansa had wished for her mother, but as Maester Wolkan tried his best to coach her through her birthing pains, there was no one who Sansa wished for more than Catelyn Stark. How her mother had gone through such torment five times was beyond her; Sansa felt as if she was going to be torn in two from the pain.

“Almost there, Your Grace,” Maester Wolkan encouraged. “A push or two more!”

Sansa screamed as she gave one last push; her cries of pain were replaced by the howls of a newborn. She collapsed back, trying to catch her breath as the maester cleaned the infant. When the small bundle was presented to her, Sansa quickly pushed the blankets back to see the thinnest dusting of red hair atop her child’s head. A sigh of relief left her body; it had been her worry.

“A boy, Your Grace,” Maester Wolkan confirmed. “A healthy boy.”

“Robb,” Sansa stated. “His name... is Robb.” She gently caressed his cheek, holding him tightly. “Send a raven to King’s Landing and to Castle Black; I would like my family to know that he has arrived safely.” 

Maester Wolkan began to leave, but then lingered awkwardly at the door.

“Is there something else, Maester Wolkan?” Sansa questioned.

“No, no, Your Grace,” he began. “It’s just... the question of your son’s... inheritance. After all, we do not know his father—”

“His father,” Sansa said. “My son’s father is a wolf.”

*****

Jon crumpled the message from Winterfell in his fist before rubbing his chin with his other hand. Sansa had bore a son, and demanded his presence at Winterfell. As the Lord Commander of the Night’s Watch, he was expected to answer to Sansa, as Castle Black resided in The North. His stomach turned slightly as Tormund approached him, slapping him on the back.

“Your lady sister has borne a son,” he remarked. “It is good news for House Stark. Who is the father?”

Jon swallowed. “She claims a wolf sired her son,” he muttered.

Tormund laughed heartily. “That is the way of the true northerners,” Tormund grinned. “A proper northern girl, she is, your sister.”

“That she is,” Jon mumbled, his mind somewhere far from their conversation. “That she is.”

*****

The Lord Commander’s arrival at Winterfell was heralded by the ringing of bells. While he had paid dearly for his regicide of Daenerys Targaryen, many in the North still considered Jon Snow a hero; his actions, after all, allowed Sansa to ensure the North’s independence. Daenerys would not have allowed as much, they knew. House Stark now ruled all of Westeros, and as far as those in the North were concerned, they all were better for it. 

Sansa was seated where her father once sat and the reminder made Jon’s heart ache. Her son was now six weeks old, and was cradled in her arms for all the lords to see.

“Lord Commander,” Sansa greeted, her eyes shining every so subtly.

“Your Grace,” Jon knelt before her, trying to keep his emotions from betraying his propriety. “I and the men of the Night’s Watch congratulate you on the birth of your son.”

“Thank you,” Sansa allowed herself to smile before she rose to her feet. She stood before him, her son fast asleep in her arms. Jon rose to his feet and allowed him to look ever so briefly at the small child, smiling slightly. “Jon, we must speak in private.”

“I agree,” he murmured. 

The two disappeared to the Lord’s Chamber, where Sansa set Robb down in his cradle. Jon felt his heart soften at the simple act, before he remembered why he had agreed to speak to her in private.

“‘I shall father no children,’” he recited the vows he’d accepted twice in his life. 

Sansa crossed the distance Jon had placed between them to rest a hand against his cheek. “Jon... you are a Stark,” she murmured. “Your son is a Stark. He will be King in the North someday, just like his father. Can you not be happy?”

Her blue eyes seemed to see right through his disappointment, and Jon embraced her. He thought of the first time he’d returned to Winterfell, weeks after Sansa’s coronation; he thought of how he’d embraced her so differently in this very room, how her hands had traced the scars on his body like another queen’s had in a distant memory. The scent of lemons and lavender oil wafted up his nose, and Jon inhaled deeply.

“How long can you stay?” Sansa whispered. 

“Not long,” Jon murmured, his fingers raking through her hair. “I planned to leave at sunup.”

“That’s enough time,” Sansa sighed. “I suppose that’s all that I can ask for now.”

Jon’s expression softened. “I suppose it is.”

*****

It did not take long for the halls of Winterfell to once again be filled with children; five Stark children, like the ghosts of a time long gone, arrived in timely succession of each other. Three boys and two girls boasted their mother’s flaming red hair and blue eyes, save for the youngest child, a boy named Jon. He was the most unusual, with fair hair almost white in hue and dark eyes. 

Not long after his birth was his namesake Jon Snow pardoned from his banishment at The Wall by both Queen Sansa and King Brandon; the former Lord Commander lived out the rest of his days at Winterfell, where he served as Queen Sansa’s Queensguard.


End file.
